Devon Drake, Cornerback

by Jean C. Joachim

  Wishing he’d pick her over Jackie wouldn’t make it so. She wondered what she’d do if she was in his shoes.

  A sudden burst of music drew her attention back to the bride and groom. They were kissing. Soon the recessional would begin, the receiving line, and then the dinner and dancing. Stormy checked the card she received at the door. It had a number on it. Her table. Number six. Squeezing her hanky, she prayed she wouldn’t be seated with Dev and Jackie. I can’t handle watching them together.

  She hung back, allowing the bulk of the crowd to move ahead of her. Disappearing among the tall men and women in high heels appealed. If I could completely vanish, it would be wonderful. She was prevented from more thoughts along those lines by a hand clasping hers. Jerking her head around, she saw Devon on her left. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Joining you. I believe we’re at the same table. Six?”

  She nodded. “What about Jackie?”

  “I doubt she has one. I don’t think she was invited.”

  “Didn’t you invite her?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because of all the things she is.” And I’m not.

  He laughed. “You’re my date.”

  The jostling and murmuring of the crowd made any further communication impossible. She shook hands with Coach, and Jo gave her a hug.

  Devon nabbed two flutes of champagne as a waiter came by and handed one to her. “Can I drink this, boss?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Special occasion,” she muttered, taking a sip.

  He took her hand and laid her palm flat on his abs. “See? No more flab.”

  “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks. I’m not addicted to donuts anymore, and I have you to thank.”

  “You did it yourself. I was only your guide.”

  Devon leaned down and kissed her. A hoot caused him to snap his head up. It was Brodsky.

  “Well, well. Do we have another couple ready to tie the knot? Someone grab the judge. Don’t let him leave.”

  Devon’s face turned bright red. Stormy wished the Earth would open up and swallow her.

  “Shut up, Brodsky,” Dev growled.

  The lineman laughed and slapped Drake on the shoulder. “Better grab her before someone else does.”

  Stormy ducked her head, wrapped her fingers around Devon’s thumb, and led him to their seats. Each table sat eight people. They were covered with cloths of deep purple adorned with centerpieces of pink and white flowers. The napkins were pink. Devon pulled out her chair.

  Jackie sidled up to him. “Wish you’d have invited me, Dev. But if I brought up another chair, do you think they’d serve me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t crash this wedding.”

  “She’s your date?” The model pointed a long, slim finger with a nail polished red at Stormy.

  “She is.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll go. You should’ve invited me. I’d get you some press.” Jackie opened her small, beaded handbag and plucked out a tube of lipstick.

  “I don’t need press. I play football.”

  “Still. I mean. There’s no contest. Really.” Jackie shot a disdainful glance at Stormy and shrugged. “I’ll call you.”

  “You do that,” Devon said. He closed his hand around Stormy’s.

  A waiter cut off any further conversation as he served plates of salad to each guest. Stormy’s appetite had vanished, but the fresh mesclun greens, avocado, and baby shrimp tempted her. She dug in, keeping her eye on Jackie.

  “I’m off. Nice to meet you,” the model said to Stormy before she leaned down and planted a big smooch on Devon’s unsuspecting mouth. Then, she sashayed across the lawn to a limousine, waiting in the club’s driveway.

  * * * *

  Three tables to the right of Devon Drake was table four. Griff, Lauren Montgomery, and his father, Hank, joined Buddy, Emmy Carruthers, and his mother, Verna, and Mr. and Mrs. Trunk Mahoney. There was one vacant seat next to Trunk. Mary Mahoney, his wife, was absent.

  When everyone was seated, Trunk spoke, “Mary’s not feeling well today.”

  “So sorry she couldn’t come,” Lauren piped up, ignoring the look from her husband pleading with her not to speak.

  “That’s okay. She doesn’t know the Coach or Ms. Parker, so it doesn’t really matter. Hey, Jo’s Mrs. Coach now, right?” Trunk grinned.

  “Will someone please introduce me to this lovely lady sitting next to me?” Hank Montgomery asked.

  “That’s Buddy’s mom, Verna Carruthers, Dad,” Griff said, digging into his salad.

  Hank shot Verna a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here. You’re the new coach?” she asked, lifting her fork to her mouth.

  “I’m the new trainer. Not a coach.” His bright blue eyes sparkled.

  Verna wore a gauzy, pink dress that hugged her figure. Though she was slim, she still had curves. The heat from Hank’s stare made her blush. No man had looked at her in such an appreciative way since her husband had died. Hank Montgomery was on the slim side too. His steel gray hair and intense eyes appealed to Verna. Yes, Hank was definitely an attractive man. “Welcome to Monroe. Do you plan to settle here for good?”

  “I’ll go wherever Griff and his family are. Don’t want to miss time with the grandchildren.”

  “Makes sense. Monroe is a nice place to live. You might find you want to stay.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Hank took a forkful of food.

  “We moved here when Buddy joined the Kings.”

  “We? Are you married?”

  “I’m a widow.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. Me too. Widowed, that is.”

  “Such a shame,” Verna said, placing her hand on his forearm for a moment. Even though he was older, there was hard muscle under his skin. Something inside her that had been dead a long time jumped to life when she touched Hank. Embarrassment at her response sent color to her cheeks. I hope he doesn’t notice.

  They sat back as the dishes were cleared.

  “Do you work?” Hank asked.

  “I’m a financial planner. I handle Buddy’s finances, and Griff’s too.”

  “So, you’re the lady making money for my son? That stuff is beyond me.”

  “I’d be happy to help you sort things out.” What the hell are you doing? Are you making a move? Verna, get a hold of yourself.

  “That’d be great! How much do you charge?”

  “I couldn’t charge you. You’re Griff’s dad. You work with Buddy.”

  “Maybe I could buy you dinner at a nice restaurant instead.”

  “That would be lovely.” Did he just ask me out?

  A waitress interrupted as she placed plates with filet mignon, tiny new parslied potatoes, and baby asparagus in front of them.

  Verna looked up in time to see Buddy throw a sharp look her way. Uh oh. She smiled at him. I’m embarrassing Buddy. I’m sixty. Too old for romance.

  “Here, can you put your number in my phone? I’m all thumbs with this thing. Griff got it for me, and I wrestle with it every day. So far, the damn phone is winning.” He handed her his cell.

  Verna added her number without a hitch. How many years has it been since I’ve given a man my number? Seems like hundreds. One glance at the scowl on Buddy’s face told her to move her gaze elsewhere. She noticed the look of amusement on Griff’s.

  They ate in silence, savoring the perfectly prepared meal. There was wedding cake for dessert, and then dancing. Before the night was over, Stormy had caught the bridal bouquet, and Hank Montgomery, the garter.

  The Kings’ players cut loose on the dance floor. Fast dances showed even the most staid player twisting, gyrating, and prancing about. Then, the music got quiet. Jo danced with her father, and then Pete. The happy couple whispered secrets, their heads touching, dancing so close a piece of paper wouldn’t slide between them.

  Verna sighed, remembering the day she’d married Budd
y’s dad.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Hank spoke up.

  “Beautiful weddings always remind me of mine.”

  “A happy time.”

  “For sure.”

  “Would you care to dance?” Hank’s eyebrows rose, the look in his eyes uncertain.

  Verna smiled. “I’d love to.” She placed her hand in his.

  As she brushed by Buddy, his scowl grew darker. Before she and Hank were out of earshot, she heard him growl to his best friend, Griff, “If your dad lays one finger on my mom, I’ll rip his heart out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Guilt washed over Samantha as she opened the door to The Savage Beast. She straightened her shoulders. I have every right to meet anyone I want to. But she knew her brother wouldn’t approve. When Bullhorn Brodsky, a.k.a. Sly, had asked her to join him for a burger and a brew, she had jumped at the chance.

  She had been working hard setting up press opportunities for the upcoming season and planning Jo Parker’s wedding. Now that her boss was off on her honeymoon, Sam had a little space to breathe. She hadn’t told Devon she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Just Stormy. She hoped her friend would keep her confidence, make some excuse so her brother would back off.

  Samantha didn’t know how she felt about Sly Brodsky. Sure, he was a handsome guy. Big and a bit bear-ish, which she found attractive. But who was he inside? So far, all she had seen was his funny side. She wanted to get to know him better. And what an opportunity at the Beast, where the food was good and the place inviting.

  She smoothed her pink, cotton skirt and pulled down her white tank top. Her fingers fiddled with her long, narrow, pink and white print silk scarf as she stood at the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness.

  “Samantha!” Sly came forward right away. “Glad you could come.” He took her elbow, led her to a table in the corner, and pulled out her chair.

  Good manners. She eased down into the caned seat and watched him. For such a tall man, he moved quickly and with grace. She noticed the width of his shoulders, and for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be under him, making love. The thought gave her goosebumps. Thank God he can’t read my mind.

  Carla sauntered over and handed them menus. “Can I get you something to drink, honey?”

  “White wine?”

  “Sure. Take your time. I’ll be back. Another brew, Bull?”

  He nodded. Dirty blond hair and light gray eyes made her pulse jump. He took a swig.

  “What I’d like to know is why my brother is so strongly against my seeing you.”

  Before he could answer, Carla returned with Sam’s drink. They ordered blue cheese burgers, the Savage Beast specialty.

  After the waitress left, Samantha trained her gaze on him. “Well?” She folded her arms across her chest.

  He looked down at his fingers, fiddling with the paper napkin, then up at her. “The guys are a little raunchy in the locker room, but, hey, that’s guys. Ya know? We do stuff, say stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Then, why would Devon be so forceful about you being a bad idea for me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There must be more to it than just cursing in the locker room.”

  “We do more than curse,” he admitted, his cheeks pinking before her eyes.

  “Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “I can’t tell you. I mean, there’s too much stuff. Just kidding around. But it’s pretty bad. Vulgar. I guess that’s it.”

  “So, he thinks you’re going to try all the stuff you talk about on me?” She smiled as the pink in his face turned to red. Bingo!

  “Maybe. I dunno,” Sly mumbled, his eyes cast down.

  “That makes sense.”

  “I wouldn’t. I really wouldn’t. It’s not about all that stuff with you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know. I get tied up with words. I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, ever.”

  “You’re a gentle giant? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I may be loud, but I’m harmless.”

  “You’ve never pushed a girl for sex?”

  “Never.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “No is no for me.”

  Carla returned with their burgers. Sam had fries, but not Sly.

  “No fries?”

  “Stormy’d kill me. Fries are on my no-no list.”

  “They should be on mine too. But I love ’em.”

  “You can eat ’em. You look great.” His gaze traveled the length of her body.

  She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry. Can’t help it. When a girl as pretty as you’s around. Well, hey, I’m a guy.”

  “You keep saying that. I’m beginning to understand why Devon objects to you.” She took a bite out of her burger.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not just about the physical. It’s about the work you do too. I mean, working at the shelter. Volunteering your time for those ladies who need help. And the kids. Damn, they’re cute. I already made a deal with Mahoney. This year’s Christmas party, I’m wearing the Santa suit.”

  “They are cute, aren’t they?” Maybe he’s okay.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, his clear eyes staring straight at hers.

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Good. Me too.”

  “Are you a multiple dater?”

  “What?”

  “Do you date several women at once?”

  Bull laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I’m lucky if I can handle one woman.”

  “That’s not what Devon says. He said you talk about all the women you’ve slept with. I’m not going to be a notch on your bedpost, Sly.”

  “I’m not like that.”

  “Really? Can I believe you?”

  The red in his face had returned, making Samantha think he was guilty. “What if we start slow?” He shifted in his seat.

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  “Let’s just, like, date. You know. Go out and do stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know! A picnic. Let’s go on a picnic. In a park.”

  “Nutmeg Park?”

  “Sure. Great. Why not? I’ll buy the food at the deli.”

  “Maybe Stormy would make something.”

  “That’s it, that’s it. I’ll hire Stormy to make a picnic for us. We’ll sit outside. Where everyone can see us.”

  Samantha chuckled. The big man was so earnest, seemed so sincere, that she had to say “yes.” She smiled at him. “Okay.”

  Taking her cue, he closed his fingers over her hand. “Honest, Samantha. I’ve never met a girl like you. I mean, not just pretty, dedicated too. You know? Working on something. Doing something real with your life instead of fussing with your hair all the time.”

  “My hair? What’s wrong with my hair?”

  He laughed. “Nothing. Not a damn thing. It’s beautiful.” He reached up and ran his fingers through her dark locks then he cupped her chin and leaned in a bit. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

  When he dropped his hand, her skin cooled. She missed the warmth of his touch.

  Carla returned. “Dessert?”

  “I’m stuffed,” Samantha said, patting her stomach.

  “They have an amazing brownie hot fudge sundae.”

  “Are you supposed to be eating stuff like that?”

  “Shh. Don’t tell Stormy.” The impish glint in his eye made her chuckle. “I’m only five pounds away from my goal. After training camp, I should be on target. Besides, if you split it with me, I’ll only be eating half.”

  “True enough. Okay. Guess I can make room for half,” she said.

  “Bring it on, Carla.”

  “Two spoons?”

  He nodded.

  The confection was piled high in a small dish. Sly scooped up the perfect combination of war
m brownie, ice cream, and hot fudge sauce on one spoon and held it to her mouth. She opened, allowing him to feed her. He made eye contact as he removed the utensil. A zing of desire shot through her body. He’s not a seducer? Yeah, right. I gotta watch this guy.

  They fed each other back and forth until the dish was empty. If there had been a bed nearby, she would have tossed him in it and jumped his bones. She couldn’t recall being so turned on after such a casual date. She excused herself and fled to the ladies room to pat her face down with cool water. When she returned, Sly had taken care of the bill and was ready to leave.

  He walked her to her car. While she fished her keys from her purse, Sly dug his toe in the dirt and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  She unlocked the vehicle and turned to face him. “Thank you for the dinner. The food was really good.”

  “And the company even better,” he put in.

  She grinned. He stood almost an entire head taller. As big as he was, he wasn’t threatening.

  Sly stepped closer and bent down. He placed a tender kiss on her lips then retreated. “When can we schedule that picnic?”

  She touched her bottom lip with her finger. “Next Sunday? Noon?”

  “Works for me. Thanks for joining me tonight.”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a brief hug. “Goodnight.”

  “Drive home safe. Text me when you get there, will ya?”

  She laughed. “It’s three miles, Sly. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know. Text me anyway.”

  “Okay.”

  He closed the door after she got in. As she pulled out of the lot, he waved. Her heart thumped as she watched him in the rearview mirror. Something sad and sweet about the big man had squeezed her heart. But was he safe? Why was Devon so opposed to him? Samantha sighed. She’d have to answer these questions before she’d consider a relationship with him.

  Still pondering the enigma that was Sylvester “Bullhorn” Brodsky as she entered the house, she was surprised to see Devon sitting on the stairs.

  “Where the hell have you been?”